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joe green wrote: > From there I would go to New Orleans and be a poet. This was, I discover, Thursday January 26, 1967. > I wondered about the specificity of that date...and then.... > Here: > "Severe snowstorms are relatively frequent in Chicago compared to Miami, but infrequent compared to Buffalo and other points east. Chicago's snowstorm of the century occurred in the winter of 1967. After unseasonably warm temperatures, snow started falling at 5:02 a.m. Thursday January 26. Snow continued to fall through Friday morning for a total accumulation of 23 inches, with drifts to 6 feet. Snow. The first year I was in Binghamton it snowed. First in October. Then in November. Then twice in one week in December. In the two December days we accumulated 29 inches. 4WD cars were not a staple back in 1969 so even the cop cars were marooned. The police commandeered snowmobiles. The odd part is that it was the most gorgeous thing I'd ever seen. Easy for me to say: my wife and I could walk to a market a few blocks away and buy whatever hadn't been bought already. In 1971 it snowed again, big-time. I had a 4-5:30 doctoral seminar in Jacobean drama (heady, heady stuff). It was just starting to flurry when I walked in. By 5:30 it was so bad it took me an hour to get home, six miles away. That was the only time they closed the University the next day. Binghamton had every snow-related feature except a recreation of the Donner Party, and if the '71 storm had gone on for another day, I'm not too sure about *that*. > Cold weather and periodic snowfalls over the next 10 days created more havoc. Although trains continued to run, cars, buses and planes didn't. Almost all schools, offices and other work places were closed for several days. Commuters unable to reach home spent several nights camped out in downtown hotels, O'Hare International Airport and stranded cars. I remember now that my former/late boss, currently burning in Hell, was stuck in O'Hare during that blizzard, and told us about what a big hero he was, organizing child care in the terminal. Pretty funny since all his kids grew up totally fucked up. > Then he went back to the shop. I didn't follow. Decided to return to school. > Sometimes what we think is Room 101 is really Room 100 or 102. Ken -------------------- Ken Wolman rainermaria.typepad.com We're neither pure, nor wise, nor good We'll do the best we know. We'll build our house and chop our wood And make our garden grow... Bernstein/Wilbur, "Candide"